


Shaving Cream

by thewonderzebra



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, In which Bergy shaves Marchy's face, M/M, They're the sweetest boys, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewonderzebra/pseuds/thewonderzebra
Summary: Brad's beard is bothering Patrice, and someone has to do something.





	Shaving Cream

**Author's Note:**

> My first time posting anything, but not my first time writing (and not my first time writing Bergy/Marchy). This is kind of a leap of faith. I blame @blindbatalex for inspiring me to post.

Patrice is vaguely aware of the feeling of something rough rubbing against the sensitive skin of his neck as he comes into consciousness one morning. He can feel Brad kissing him awake, as he always does in the morning. But the roughness is unusual, and he suspects his neck will have red marks to show for it. Wrapping his arm gently around his love’s waist, Patrice turns his head and opens his eyes. “Hey,” he greets Brad, voice raspy from sleep as he kisses the left winger’s forehead. 

Brad smiles contentedly up at Patrice’s sleepy affection. “Morning, handsome,” he murmurs. Gently, he resumes the activity of nuzzling his other half’s neck, his patchily growing beard rubbing audibly against the sensitive skin there in between soft kisses. This time, though, Patrice is fully awake to appreciate the action. 

It is at this point that realization strikes Patrice. Brad’s beard; his beard is the previously unaccounted for roughness that brought him out of his sleeping state. He is torn between wanting Brad to keep kissing and nuzzling him, and wanting to preserve the state of his skin, which is already beginning to itch. The assistant captain smiles to himself, though, when he realizes how he can have both. “Brad,” he mumbles, trying to wake himself up more fully. “Your beard. You need to shave, cher.”

“What?” Marchand replies. “You don’t like it? I think it makes me look distinguished.” He gives Patrice a roguish grin, and the assistant captain is well aware that he’s being teased. 

“It’s not about being distinguished,” he says, yawning around his words. “It’s about comfort. And right now your beard is scratching my skin, therefore it is uncomfortable.” Patrice widens his eyes and sticks out his lower lip just a little, knowing that if nothing else, the pouting tactic will get him what he wants.

The assistant captain has to stifle a laugh when his other half sighs in defeat, looking flustered. “Okay, fine,” Brad says, even as he rolls his eyes. “You win. But if you want me shaved, you’re going to have to do it yourself.” He smirks, letting Patrice know that the decision is, once more, up to him. 

“You’re incorrigible,” Patrice mock-scolds. In truth, he is more than happy to do the shaving honors. He rolls out of bed, and holds out a hand which he uses to pull Brad out from under the covers and onto his feet. “Let’s go, then.”

Once they are in the bathroom, Patrice sets about grabbing Brad’s razor and the bottle of shaving cream, setting them on the sink countertop. He turns around, then, and grabs the backs of Brad’s thighs, lifting him in his arms and setting the left winger down on the countertop as well. Brad lets his legs fall open, and Patrice steps into his space. It takes mere seconds for Brad to wrap his arms around Patrice’s neck, and kiss him lightly. Patrice only allows a brief kiss before leaning back just out of his love’s reach. “No more kisses until you’re clean shaven,” he admonishes.

Brad smiles innocently, but sits still. He can’t help admire Patrice, the way he remains focused on the task at hand. As Patrice lathers Brad’s face with shaving cream, the left winger brings a hand to run his fingers across his love’s cheek, fingertips playing across his lips. It is easy, he realizes, to get distracted by Patrice’s lips, and the overwhelming desire to feel his lips against his own, on his skin, everywhere. If anyone were to be privy to his frequent thoughts of kissing his other half, that person would likely be concerned; but Brad feels no sense of impropriety.

As Patrice picks up the razor and moves it toward Brad’s cheek, Brad darts toward his love and steals his lips in a kiss. Patrice leans into it and sighs contentedly, but still manages to look annoyed when they separate. “Marchy, you have to stay still while I’m doing this,” he says, wiping shaving cream from his own face—a byproduct of Brad kissing him. “I don’t want to accidentally cut you.”

He knows almost instantly that he’s said the wrong thing, because the left winger’s face lights up at his words. “But if you cut me,” Brad says slowly, methodically. “Then you’d have to kiss it better, eh?” He winks, and Patrice groans: “You’re killing me, ange.” 

Using the motivation of being able to kiss Patrice after his face is shaven, Brad tries his hardest to remain still. He grins stupidly, though, when Patrice grabs hold of one of his hands (with the hand not holding the razor) and squeezes his fingers gently while he methodically drags the razor in lines down the left winger's cheeks. Of course, he can't resist being a little playful, so when Patrice is only a few lines away from completion, Brad grabs hold of the shaving cream, and sprays the foaming substance onto Patrice's bare chest in the shape of a heart. Patrice lifts an eyebrow, but refuses to be deterred from his task until it is done, so Brad just grins saucily at him and waits. 

Finally, Patrice finishes shaving and cleaning Brad's face, so he sets the razor to the side and leans around his love to look at his chest in the mirror. As he takes in the shaving cream heart, he throws his head back in laughter. When he looks at Brad, he sees a pleased smile (though it is tinged with a faint blush) tugging at the left winger's lips. He uses a wet cloth to wipe the shaving cream off himself, and invades his love's space, framing his now-smooth face in his hands. "You're in fine form this morning, hmm?" he teases lovingly. 

Brad shrugs, but doesn't deny that fact. Patrice, still laughing softly, shakes his head and decides to give him what he knows his linemate is after. "Well, I suppose you've been patient long enough," the assistant captain murmurs. "Even if you did squirm a bit at the end." With that, he leans in and presses his lips to Brad's, loving the way his other half wraps his arms tightly around his shoulders, like he can't possibly have Patrice close enough. 

When the need for oxygen forces them to separate, Brad is positively beaming. "So, how was that?" he asks. "Better with no beard?" 

Patrice nods and smiles before stealing another quick kiss. "Much," he confirms. "Now you can kiss me all you want." It takes mere seconds for Brad to wrap himself completely around Patrice and whisper for him to take him back to bed so he can do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you liked it and want to see more...positive feedback keeps this writer functioning. <3 Also, I'm on Tumblr @thewonderzebra if you want to come yell with me about hockey and such there.


End file.
